


Hurt

by wibblywobblyfandom



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Again, Angst, Canon Compliant, Gen, Poetry, So much angst, Torture, a little prose-y too though, based on the s3 trailer where it looks like murphy is being tortured, character study sorta?, i am so bad at tagging, just a little, someone please protect my son!!!!, sort of mentions of memori maybe??? could be interpreted as platonic, the violence is not rEALLY graphic but i tagged it just to be safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 03:07:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5481008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wibblywobblyfandom/pseuds/wibblywobblyfandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You heard, once, that pain causes growth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hurt

**Author's Note:**

> After the angsty mess that was the season 3 trailer, I decided to write something fluffy to cheer myself up.  
> This is not that thing, but it is based around the two second shot we got in the trailer of that person who looks suspiciously like Murphy all bloodied up and lying on a table.

You’re in a room.

One that you’ve visited before

Or maybe one similar to it.

There is too much blood in your eyes to see clearly.

The room is not one which holds pleasant memories

Only fear

And endless, unforgiving pain.

 

You heard, once, that pain causes growth.

That it strengthens spirit,

Builds character.

You don’t know where you heard that.

A book, you suppose

Or maybe from your mother.

Probably from your mother.

 

You think back on all the pain you’ve ever felt.

There’s a lot of it.

This could take a while.

The friend who left while you were gone lumbers forward.

A man who was your leader waves

With a length of rope in one hand

The girl you could have loved greets you with a smile

Your parents twirl in each other’s arms and,

Smiling,

Invite you to join.

 

That was the good pain

The stuff that comes with happiness too.

Now, a young girl runs from you in fear.

The boys you killed

Gasp for air on the floor.

Someone who knows your voice by your screams alone

Strides towards you with a knife.

This person is not in your head.

 

He holds the knife to a flame, illuminating its ragged edges.

You know what is coming, but still

You struggle

Not this

Not again, please.

Please.

Anything but this.

 

The man examines the red-hot knife before moving toward you.

He runs the blade across your torso

As soft as someone might run their fingers over a lover’s face.

That would be nice, you think.

A nicer touch than this.

 

Now, you are thinking more of pain

Than of people.

In the back of your mind you hear screams

You realise that they are not your own.

It’s ironic that this is the one thing you are not alone in.

 

All you know is pain.

Not just now, but always.

You see it, you feel it, you inflict it.

You inflict it.

 

It comes to mind how wrong that saying is.

The pretentious one, about pain and growth.

After all, you’ve been in agony your entire life

And all this pain has never made you grow.

It has only made you

Hurt.


End file.
